20 Magical Masks: A Happy Mask Salesman Adventure
by Yukimi the Ice Goddess
Summary: The tale of one man, 20 masks, and the adventure he must undertake to collect them all! Told by a wandering ministral of a restless salesman who travels to find not only masks, but his heart as well. Please read and review!
1. Prologue

One upon a time, in the land of Hyrule, there was a man. A man who sold masks. He lived in a small, unimportant town in a small, unimportant house, and made his living by selling masks in his small, unimportant shop. It was the Happy Mask Shop. He was the best in the business, and people came from far and wide to buy his masks. For a time, he was happy, well-known, and most of all, wealthy.

Until, one day, people stopped coming.

At first it was just one day. The mask salesman thought that it was just a slow business day and continued to smile. Then the day turned into a week. That week turned into a month. Pretty soon, the mask salesman was unhappy and very poor. It seemed like people just did not want to buy masks anymore.

But still, the salesman continued to make masks. He whittled them out of wood, cast them out of iron, and even made masks cut out of paper. He observed the current styles to find out what people might like in a mask and emulated them. But the salesman spent too much money on masks and not enough paying his rent. His shop was eventually bought out and he set off to travel the world with nothing but the masks on his back.

As he traveled places, he began to hear whispers. People all around him saw his ruin and wondered how he had gone from a wealthy businessman to a mere beggar. Occasionally, someone would buy a mask out of pure pity. But that was only occasionally. The salesman had just about given up hope.

Until one day he heard a song.

One fateful day, when the salesman was resting outside a pub during his travels, he heard a wandering bard inside playing his lute and telling the tale of a mysterious hero. Legends called him the Hero of Time, a young boy who had saved a land called Termina from terrible destruction from a demonic moon. The boy did it with the help of his guardian fairy and twenty magical masks which could transform him into various things. The masks did other things as well, from making your sense of smell as heightened as a dog's to endowing you with the ability to lead animals wherever you wished.

But once he saved the world, the bard continued, a giant bird stole his masks and scattered them across the land. Since he had gotten his use out of them, the Hero merely shrugged and went back to his home.

Hearing this fantastical tale, the Happy Mask salesman got a fantastical idea. Why, he thought, couldn't he be the one to recover these masks? He would go on a journey and scour the lands to find these masks. Once found, he would replicate them and sell them to the public! Surely this way he would get back his grand fortune!

So off he went, that salesman, to travel the land of Hyrule with only his wallet filled with 200 rupees, a sack for carrying the masks in, and the words of the bard that helped him on his way.

This is the story of the salesman and the trials and tribulations he went through to make his dream a reality.

* * *

AN: This is a story idea that I'm trying out. It will be written like a folktale and go through each of the masks that were shown in Majora's Mask.

Please read and review. In your review, I would be much obliged if you would tell me which masks you'd like to see first and what you like and/ordisliked about my narration.I may scrap this idea if I don't get many reviews, so please review!


	2. The Great Fairy's Fountain

Ch. 1: The Great Fairy's Mask

The day the Happy Mask Salesman set out on his long and difficult journey, it was sunny and warm. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and the salesman was all the happier for it.

However, there was one thing the salesman had forgotten: Food.

In his haste to get his wonderful journey underway, he had forgotten to laden his pack with provisions. Because of this, the Happy Mask Salesman was very depressed. His stomach grumbled as he walked through the woods near his homeland.

But did he turn around? No he did not! He instead held his head high and continued on his slightly merry way, attempting to stave off hunger by humming one of the tunes the bard had been singing.

As he hummed, he pondered about how to find these fantastic masks he was seeking. After all, he amended, although this was indeed a fantastic idea, he had no idea about how to start. After a lot more pondering, he settled on the fact that he should find another town to gather information.

Of course, it would not do to go back to Hyrule Castle Town. Although it would probably have been the smartest thing to do under the circumstances, it would be highly embarrassing. He might have been tempted to stay in the town and give up on his journey altogether. Also, since he foolishly broadcast his fantastic idea to the entire town and spent a lot of time advertising his new masks to the general public, he would have been publicly humiliated on top of everything else. He would have been forced to do menial work in some faraway place where nobody would recognize him.

Imagine! A creative genius such as himself forced to wash pots! It would never do.

Unaware that his imagination might have been getting the best of him, the mask salesman muttered under his breath about the injustice done to leaders of the arts. As he grumbled, he failed to notice that he had walked into a large cave.

A shimmering glow brought him back to his senses. The cave he had walked into was incredibly large, filled with crystals as big as a person's head. Near the back of the cave was a large fountain, so large, in fact, that the mask salesman had to stand on the tips of his toes to look inside it. The pool was filled to the brim with shimmering pink water. The water was such a deep shade of pink that the salesman could not see the bottom of the fountain.

"Well," thought the salesman, "this water may be strange looking, but it seems fit enough for a thirsty traveler such as myself to drink." Taking a deep breath of satisfaction, the salesman put his cupped hands into the pool and drew out a handful of water.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" called out a harsh, godlike voice.

The voice startled the salesman into dropping the water all over the floor. Angry that he was being denied a well deserved drink, he called out to the voice. "Who's there?" he said. "Where are you? This water is mine! I found it myself!"

"That's where you're wrong!" the voice called back. "The water is mine!"

The salesman could now tell that the voice was coming from inside the pool. He was about to call out again when the pool exploded in front of him and showered him with pink drops of liquid. He closed his eyes against the blast and when he opened them he saw one of the strangest things he had ever seen!

Standing in front of him on the water's surface was a beautiful woman. She stood completely naked with only vines and reeds covering her voluptuous body. Her hands were dainty and her arms were of frailty befitting a woman. Her legs were long and sinuous. The mask salesman admired her body and thought how lucky he was to meet this glistening vision of beauty that stood before him.

Then he looked at her face.

The salesman recoiled. The woman's head was covered with a mass of thick pink hair which trailed down her front in a tangle of braids. This was monstrous enough, but her face, which should have been beautiful if it were judged by her body, was covered with face paint that distorted her features and made her a forbidding sight.

The woman let out a high pitched screech that made the salesman tremble. "So," she said, "You must be very tough to walk into a Great Fairy's Fountain claiming to own the place! Who are you?"

Avoiding her gaze, the salesman replied. "Oh, Great Fairy," he spoke, "I am but a humble Mask Salesman who is embarking on a journey to find 20 magical masks. I stopped here because I saw the water. I am very thirsty."

"Well," said the Great Fairy, "This is certainly a perilous journey you wish to attempt. To find these masks, you will have to travel over mountains, oceans, and plains. Some of these masks may even be destroyed and unable to recover. Jealous caretakers of the masks will wish to guard them from you. It may be years before you recover all of them. That being said," she finally ended, "do you still wish to try and find these legendary masks?"

The salesman didn't know why she even bothered to ask. "Of course I will! This is my new dream! I will not rest until all of those masks are in this bag on my back!"

The Great Fairy smiled at the salesman generously. "You have more courage than I thought," she remarked. "What drives you to accomplish this task? Do you do it for glory? For self-accomplishment? To uncover more of the history of this land?"

"No," said the salesman.

"Well, then, why?" asked the Great Fairy.

"To tell you the truth," said the salesman, "I want to duplicate the masks and sell them for cash."

A flicker of disappointment flashed across the Great Fairy's face. "Oh," she said. "Is that all?"

"Yes!" said the mask salesman joyfully. "People will come from far and wide to buy my replicas! I'll make so much money and I'll go back to my old prosperity!"

"Oh!" exclaimed the Great Fairy, delighted once more. "So you wish to garner the respect of those who saw your previous greatness?"

"No," said the salesman. "I'm pretty sure I want to do it for the money."

The Great Fairy's shoulders slumped. "I see," she said with distaste. "Well, if nothing else, I admire your honesty. Most who come in here tell me lies so that I will bring them glory." Her face brightened as she continued. "I will reward your honesty with a small start on your journey. Here!"

With that, the Great Fairy waved her magnificent hand and let out another shrill scream. As the salesman covered his ears, he noticed that a band of light began to form around her hand. Water from the pool joined the light and the two forces intertwined to create a shining figure. With an illuminating flash, the figure dropped to the ground at the salesman's feet.

It was a mask. Not just any mask, however, but one that looked exactly like the Great Fairy herself. Unfortunately, being only a portrayal of her face and head, there was nothing to distract the salesman from her hideousness. However, the Mask Salesman forced a smile and bowed to the Great Fairy.

"Thank you!" he said with gratitude. "Do you think you could fill up my pack with food also?"

"Don't push your luck," said the Great Fairy. With one last mirthful screech, she disappeared back into the fountain.

Thus truly began the adventures of the Happy Mask Salesman. With a slightly fuller pack, he made his way steadily to the nearest town…wherever it was.

_**At the start of his quest, the man was a fool**_

_**And traveled too close to a sacred pool**_

_**However, not even having to ask,**_

_**The Great Fairy blessed him with a magical mask.**_


	3. Ranch Hands are Sissies

Chapter 2: Ranch Hands Are Sissies

With a new mask in hand, the salesman continued on his quest. However, although his pack was slightly fuller, his belly was not. So as his stomach continued to grumble, he came across yet another problem.

The salesman was lost.

Having hardly ever left Hyrule Castle Town, the salesman did not know the way to any major landmarks and villages. He could have been traveling in any direction and he would not have known it.

Understandably, this made the mask salesman angry. He resolved that once he found a town of any sort, he would buy a map. Whether this would help or not, the salesman did not know.

After a day or so of traveling, the salesman was exhausted. The only thing that kept him going was his hunger and his, albeit slightly waning, determination. He crawled across the land underneath a brutal sun while he dreamed of roast fish and cool water.

Suddenly, the salesman bumped into something, a something that was large and made of wood. He stepped back to see what it was and found that the something was part of a large sign that was hanging over head. The actual sign was supported by two wooden towers, much like the one he was facing a moment before. The sign read **_Lon-Lon Ranch_** in big bold lettering.

The salesman had never been to a ranch before. He was startled by the new scents of horses and alfalfa that he had suddenly become aware of. But that mask salesman did not pay any attention to them. What really caught his attention was another something that was dangling off the sign. It was shaped like the head of a standard cow, complete with little horns and a tiny bell that was hanging off it. The bell did not seem like part of the original ornamentation. The salesman immediately recognized it as another one of those fantastic masks, Romani's Mask!

"But what," the salesman wondered aloud, "is it doing here?"

The salesman's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a young girl approaching him. The girl looked to be about ten years of age. She had beautiful long red hair and engaging blue eyes. A very sincere smile lit up her face, a feature that made her seem very cute and innocent.

"Hello," the girl said. "My name is Malon! My father, Talon, owns this ranch!"

The salesman tried to reply, but he could only gurgle slightly as he lay wearily on the dirt road. This made the girl's expression turn to one of concern. "Oh, my!" she cried. "You seem terribly starving! Won't you come with me?"

And with that the salesman was led into ranch.

Moments later, he was presented with a bounty of food and plenty of milk to drink. He could have married the girl if it wasn't entirely inappropriate. As quick as a flash, he began to fill his belly with cheese, buttered bread, milk, and a strange concoction which seemed to be compromised of Lon-Lon Milk and alcohol.

The salesman asked Talon, the girl's father, about the drink. The man smiled benignly. "That's a special brew made by our cousins," he said. "It's called Chateau Romani. I usually don't like to drink it, but it's good for a little pick-me-up."

At the mention of the name "Romani", the salesman's finely tuned ears burned. "So," said the salesmanever so coolly, "The Romani's are your cousins?"

Talon nodded, still smiling. "They aren't actually cousins," he corrected himself, "but they are a sister ranch. I'd go so far as to say their milk is better, but we get more business. You see," he said, "they've had a problem with cow thieves." His smile faded slightly.

There was no doubt about it! That mask had belonged to that famous ranch, Romani Ranch! In that faraway land of Termina, it was said that aliens had stolen the cows away one by one. They had to sell an amazing amount of property to buy new cows. Why, the salesman reasoned, couldn't one of the "properties" have been that famous mask?

The salesman put on a smile. "I'm sorry to hear that. Did you get that…decoration on your sign from them as well?" he asked.

"Yes," said Talon. "That little girl, Romani, she's about my Malon's age. She has quite an imagination! According to her, she got that old thing from a grasshopper who helped out their ranch."

The salesman did not know anything about a grasshopper, but he was so happy at the prospect of adding a new mask to his collection that he didn't even care. "Might I buy that from you, sir?" the salesman asked politely. His smile grew even larger. "I'm a collector of sorts, you see."

Talon shook his head. "Oh, no, I couldn't do that! It's very valuable to us, emotionally," he said. "I'm sorry, but I won't let you buy it."

"I see," said the salesman regretfully. The smile was gone from his face. "I'm sorry for troubling you."

"Please spend the night here at our ranch," Talon said generously. "I'll set up a room for you."

And that was the end of the discussion.

* * *

The salesman was furious!

As he sat on a bale of hay in the stall that passed for a guest room, he puzzled and puzzled over how to get the mask he desired. He could not leave the ranch until he had it in his grasp. The ranch owner was not likely to give in to his request. What a stubborn man he was! No, there was only one thing for it.

The salesman was going to steal the mask.

Of course, the salesman reasoned. It wasn't really stealing. He was going to give it back. Eventually. He had to use it to make copies that he could sell to the public. After that was done, he would give it back to them.

Or perhaps he would give them a replica. He would decide that when the time came.

The salesman stayed up for hours and used his fantastic brain to think up a fantastic plan to get the mask. Then finally, at the stroke of midnight, he put that plan into action.

The salesman silently crept out of his "guest room" and went outside under cover of darkness. The ranch owner and his daughter were sound asleep and the only creature stirring was the ranch hand, Ingo. He was a tall spindly man with a bushy brown mustache and slightly insane eyes. He glanced around watchfully, but did not notice the salesman sneaking up behind him.

After judging the timing to be right, the salesman began to hum eerily in the darkness. Creeping closer behind Ingo, he increased his humming. He noticed that Ingo was becoming nervous and finally shouted out a loud "BOO!"

Ingo looked around and saw the most fearsome sight. A mass of pink hair, a glowing visage, the reflection of the moon in colorless eyes…it could only be some sort of monster! He panicked completely and ran screaming out of the ranch.

The salesman rejoiced. His plan had worked beautifully! He took off the Great Fairy's Mask, stowed into his sack, allowed himself one final laugh of triumph and proceeded to remove the Romani's Mask from the sign post in front of him.

Running top speed out of the area with another mask in tow, the mask salesman congratulated himself for having the foresight to also steal food from the ranch. He would not be hungry again for a long time.

**_Starving from hunger, the man found his way_**

_**To a mask tied with aliens, some people say.**_

**_He stole it that night from some friendly old simps_**

_**With only one thought later: Ranch hands are wimps!**_

* * *

AN: Comments? Questions? Suggestions for what masks I should use next? Please review and I'll be sure to reply.

I do not condone theft in any way. But we all knew the salesman is slightly insane, right?


	4. The Master of Tricks

Chapter 3: Master of Tricks

The salesman ran and ran as fast as he could to get away from the ranch. It could be any moment when the owners would awaken to find their mask gone! The salesman had no intention of being caught with his new mask, so he ran without stop until the morning.

As the salesman watched the morning sun rise, he pondered for a bit about his position. He had committed a crime to gain a valuable mask. It was necessary of course to achieve his cause, but how many more masks would he have to steal? For this was a righteous cause born through bravery and chivalry. Thievery would only sully the purity of his quest.

Then again, he amended, at its heart his "quest" was only a money-making scheme. He began to rationalize. People stole all the time for money. In the end, he was not any different from the rest of the world.

The salesman was not too worried about stealing. At the moment he was only happy, for he had the foresight to also purloin bread and cheese from the ranch. With a smile on his face, he cheerfully opened up his sack and ate his fill of the delicious milk by-products.

Eventually, however, as he began to travel again with a considerably lighter sack, he began to ponder once more. He did not ponder about morals, however, but his methods. So far he had come across the masks he had found by dumb luck. He had been half starved when he had found them. He had taken matters into his own hands eventually, of course, but would he be so lucky again? There was just no telling.

In the middle of his pondering, he almost failed to notice that the weight on his back had grown much, much lighter. He frowned and felt around his back to see what could be wrong.

His pack was gone!

The salesman trembled. He was facing one of two things: a thief or the owner of the ranch. He was not ready for either one of them. It would not do, however, to appear scared when facing a foe. Despite the fact that he was weaponless, the salesman spun around with bared teeth and yelled out boldly.

"Hey!" said the salesman fearsomely. "Where's my bag? Whoever stole it, come out right now!"

Then the salesman blinked sheepishly. The culprit was standing right in front of him. His eyes then widened considerably when he saw exactly what it was.

The creature standing in front of him was about as tall as the salesman himself, although it was most definitely not human. It was lean and catlike and almost completely yellow. The salesman was amazed he had walked so far and failed to see such a conspicuous creature, since besides the color the creature had three tails, each of them yellow and bushy with coal black tips. All and all, it looked like a huge fox, like the spiritual kitsune that roamed the fields in legend.

Could this thief be a legendary Keaton?

"Excuse me," said the salesman, as cordially as he could, given the circumstances, "That sack belongs to me. Give it back."

The fox seemed to panic, although it was hard to tell. Its face was unchanging, its eyes always seemingly closed. However, it twitched its black tipped ears erratically, which led the salesman to believe that it was nervous. "My apologies, good sir!" said the fox almost just as cordially, and with that he let go of the pack with great speed. "I did not think you could see me," the fox explained.

"How could I not?" asked the salesman. "You really are very obvious. Pardon my asking, but are you a Keaton?"

Although the fox's expression still did not change, the salesman could have sworn he saw a smile on its face. "You are very knowledgeable," said the fox, "for I am indeed a Keaton. You are also very lucky. Only a few people in this world can see our true forms. To do so you must be an expert at tricks." The Keaton bowed. "It is an honor to meet a fellow trickster."

The salesman bowed back. He was uneasy, but had the presence of mind to be polite. However, he remained puzzled, in more ways than one. He decided to ask the more curious question first. "Are you wearing a mask? Forgive me for asking, but your face does not seem to change," asked the incorrigible salesman.

The Keaton put a very yellow paw to its mouth and laughed. Its eyes remained as creased as they had always been. "It is a special power granted only to the Keaton," the fox spirit sniggered, "for if our face does not change expression, it makes it very easy to bluff. That is one reason that the Keaton is a master of tricks."

"Oh, really?" said the salesman appreciatively. "That truly is magnificent." He felt it would be best to keep the Keaton entertained, which was very wise of him, for the Keaton when angered can be a very dangerous creature. "What are the other reasons?"

The Keaton's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint. "We Keatons can become invisible whenever the need arises," he answered. "When a normal person looks at us their eyes slide off of our figure like water off a fox's back."

The salesman nodded. "A fine thing indeed. Keatons truly are the most humbling creatures of myth after all. I had heard things from tales, but seeing the real thing up close is simply too grand." The salesman watched with interest as the Keaton's tails began to wave behind it. He could only assume that that meant he was pleased, for his face was still as solid and blank as a stone.

Suddenly the Keaton's tails stopped waving. "You mentioned a mask. What is your business regarding masks?"

"My good creature," said the salesman, "my very profession regards masks. I make a living by selling them to the public. I am currently on a quest to find the twenty masks of Termina, from the legend of Majora's Mask." The salesman beamed. "I have already found two," he said proudly.

The Keaton nodded sagely. "I know of the masks of which you speak," he said, "and I know the location of a good many of them. In fact," he continued, "I have one in my possession."

"The Keaton Mask!" said the salesman excitedly. "I would be very grateful if you would give it to me."

"It is impossible for me to just give it to you," replied the Keaton. Perhaps it was the salesman's imagination, but the Keaton sounded quite smug. "You must prove yourself to be a master trickster. Just being able to see me is not enough."

"How can I prove myself worthy?" asked the salesman.

"If you can manage to trick one of my more foolish cousins out into the open," said the Keaton, "I will give you my mask."

The salesman accepted these terms readily and the Keaton smirked triumphantly. "You have 48 hours," he said, "but you have already lost. To best a Keaton at tricks is impossible. It is like trying to run faster than the wind." And with that, the Keaton vanished into a puff of yellow smoke, leaving only the ringing of his laughter in the air behind him.

The salesman wished with all of his heart that he could have kept the Keaton where he could see him. The fox, as he suspected, was already making his rounds through the forest and warning his cousins of the strangely clothed salesman. Aware of his position, the salesman sat right where he was and racked his brain, trying to think of a fantastic plan to accomplish his set task.

At first he attempted some very basic tricks. He had read in a book long ago that the Keaton's favorite food was honey on bread, so he found a hive and retrieved some honey, nearly getting himself killed in the process, and then smeared it on a slice of bread. However, no Keaton rose to the bait. It was not surprising. The salesman should have known that the Keaton would be too smart to fall for such obvious temptation.

Then the salesman tried leaving the honeyed bread alone for a while, hiding in the bushes to watch for an unsuspecting Keaton. However, he must have dozed off, for before he knew it the sky had grown dark and the bread was gone. The salesman could have sworn that he had heard sly chuckles from all around him.

The salesman tried many other tricks, but they all failed so terribly that it would be pointless to list them all here. Near dawn on the second day, the salesman had just about given up. He was running out of ideas fast. Perhaps it was impossible to trick a Keaton.

No! thought the salesman stubbornly. Every creature had a fatal weakness. There was nothing that was impossible to beat, no matter how tricky they seemed.

Suddenly, an answer hit the salesman like a bolt of lightning. He recalled back to when he was speaking to the Keaton and remembered a very unusual thing.

The salesman hid a triumphant smile. He had an idea as to how to lure the Keaton into a false sense of security. He put on a very sad face and began to speak.

"Oh, what is the use?" moaned the salesman. "I have tried everything that I can think of. That mask will never be mine as long as it is held by the Keaton." A wobbly tear traced its way down the salesman's cheek. "What kind of trickster am I? Even if I had thousands of years of trickery under my belt, it would never measure up to the experience of a Keaton. Their powers are truly beyond compare! I will never be able to best a master of tricks after all."

A small, insignificant chuckle sounded behind him and the salesman spun around to stare at the air behind him. Sure enough, there stood and extremely young Keaton, almost half the size of the one the salesman had spoken to earlier. It had only one tail, but that tail was waving happily around behind him, betraying his existence.

"Ah hah!" cried the salesman triumphantly. "I have indeed found a Keaton, out here in the open for all to see!" The young fox's head suddenly snapped up and it realized the position that it was in. Squeaking fearfully, it covered its head with its very yellow paws and bent down.

Several other Keaton materialized around the area, the salesman's thief among them. "That was a fatal mistake!" said the Keaton to his smaller cousin. "If that man had been an enemy, it would have killed you on the spot. Falling for an enemy's flattery is the worst thing a Keaton can do!"

"Please forgive me!" cried the kit as it knelt in front of the rest of the tribe. "I am extremely ashamed! I will be more careful in the future."

The salesman stood with his arms outstretched and grinned from ear to ear. His magnificent plan had worked, and he thanked his lucky stars that the young fox was less learned than its elders. "I have bested your challenge," said the salesman to the surrounding Keaton. "You must honor your promise and give me your mask."

The Keaton sighed. "You are possessed with incredible luck, my friend," he said. "I will indeed keep my word, but next time you will need to try harder, for we will not be fooled so easily." And with those words, the Keaton dashed over to the largest tree in the area. He punched a small fist into the bark, and drew forth the mystical Keaton's Mask. It was shaped exactly like the head of the creature that held it, with forever smiling eyes and a very yellow face.

The salesman accepted the mask gratefully. "I thank you," he said. "Do you know where I can find more masks?"

The Keaton nodded. "Travel east a day or two more and you will reach Kakariko village. If you question the villagers further, you will find the information you seek." Following those words, the Keaton let out a piercing whistle and he as well as his many cousins disappeared in a cloud of yellow smoke. The air once again rang with sly laughter.

With these final instructions, the salesman set off to the east and continued his journey. Thus the salesman managed to fool a Keaton, even though it was a young one, and proved his skill as a master of tricks.

_The salesman ran on and continued his quest,_

_And met a strange creature who at tricks was the best._

_After fooling the Keaton with his high words of praise,_

_The salesman earned a mask for his quick-thinking ways._


	5. The Ugliest Chef in the World

Chapter 4: The Ugliest Cook in the World 

A day had passed since the salesman had won the Keaton Mask from the mysterious fox spirits. Now he trudged onward and out of the maze-like forest to what he thought was Kakariko village, his next destination on his fantastic journey. Clouds drifted in the sky like lost warriors in search of the sun. So the salesman thought, as he was feeling rather poetic that day. The clouds had no idea that what they were searching for was right behind them.

I wonder, the salesman thought, if it is the same with me and the village is right before my eyes? He closed his eyes and prayed for the spirits of Hyrule to guide him in the right direction. He opened his eyes…

…and nothing happened.

No wonder he was an atheist.

"That's right!" he cried out suddenly as he looked up into the sky with an expression of realization. "You have to make your own luck! You cannot rely on anybody but yourself! Now," he continued to shout, pointing in a totally random direction, "I move onward! I'll show you, bad-luck spirits of Hyrule!"

Chuckles reverberated through the air. The sheepish salesman realized that the Keatons must have still been watching him. He held his sack close to him as he tromped off through the forest. As he left, he muttered curses about show-offy foxes who pretended to know more than they did under his breath.

After about an hour, the salesman began to grow very depressed. Every time he tried to be optimistic, something terribly bad would happen. He was constantly getting lost. Even now it was like the forest was shifting around him. Maybe he just had a lousy sense of direction.

Then, as if by magic, a dirt path appeared on the ground before him. He stepped out of the dismal forest and into a world filled with light and sound. Nothing could stop him now! Now that he was out of the forest, the salesman was one step closer to achieving his dream! It seemed as though even the birds were cheering him on!

As he ran along the dirt path, a city rose up in the distance. Illuminated by the marvelous sun, stone walls loomed above the salesman. It was a gigantic fortress, as tall as the sky, or so it seemed to the poor salesman. A wooden drawbridge lay like a welcome mat in front of him and was practically inviting the salesman to come in and seek shelter.

Kakariko! Was there ever a more beautiful name?

Tears of joy streamed down the salesman's face, and as such prompted a passerby to stop and stare. The soldier, for that was his profession, asked the salesman with a frown on his face, "Salesman, what is wrong? Why do you cry so?"

"I am crying because I have finally reached the place I was headed for, after weeks and weeks of travel!" the happy salesman replied. "I am the happiest man in the world, for I am here at Kakariko village."

Suddenly, the soldier laughed. This puzzled the salesman and he stopped his tears. "Here now, what is so funny?" asked the salesman.

With a wide grin on his face, the soldier answered, "I think you are a bit confused, salesman. You are back at Hyrule Castle Town, where you told everyone you would come back with rare masks one day. Kakariko village is about two hours over that way," and he pointed somewhere in the southeast, along the river.

With wide eyes, the salesman looked speechlessly in the direction the soldier pointed. He then slowly turned to look at the castle before him.

"I'm a moron," he thought bitterly, and wordlessly shuffled into his hometown, Hyrule Castle Town.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The salesman was extremely bitter. His fantastical journey had been interrupted. What bad luck he had to wind up right back where he started.

And the worst part was that nobody seemed to care! The salesman was being completely ignored by the people of Hyrule Castle Town. It was far from the jeers and laughter that he expected. Of course, the salesman still felt embarrassed. It was all he could do to walk into the nearest restaurant and feed his grumbling stomach.

Tears streamed down the salesman's noble face as he quickly gobbled up three servings of a vegetable noodle blend. He had been to this restaurant before and it tasted so much better than he remembered it! Perhaps it was just because he was starving for his righteous quest, but he ate and ate like he would never eat again.

"Thanks for the food," the salesman said to rather short man at the counter as he paid for his meal. "I don't know what you put in those noodles, but they tasted better than usual."

"That is because he hired a new chef while you've been traveling," the restaurant owner replied. "He does things with a pot and pan that you would never think possible."

"Aha!" exclaimed the salesman. "I would love to meet the chef and tell him what a fabulous job he has done."

"I will get him for you," the short man replied, and off he went to fetch this master cook.

Moments later, the chef appeared, and for the second time in two weeks the salesman was utterly horrified.

The chef seemed like a perfectly normal man from the neck down. He was about average height and build and he was dressed as a chef would normally dress, complete with a white hat. However, his face was that of a monster! With beady green eyes and short flaps on top of his head that seemed to be ears, he was well equipped for causing terror among small children.

However, that was not the worst of it. Right in the middle of his face was a large, sweaty pig snout. Whenever the cook breathed in, the salesman saw it move. It was enough to make the salesman's jaw drop!

"I hear you have some comments about my cooking," said the chef, in a perfectly normal voice. What was this pig-man?

Hearing the chef speak made something else clear: the chef had no mouth! When he talked, his lips did not move!

Suddenly, the salesman's eyes lit up. An oily smile spread across his face. He just realized what was going on. This chef was wearing a mask. But not just any mask, no! This was one of those legendary masks, the Mask of Scents! The salesman was stunned; there was a mask in his home town all along! He would have missed it if he had not gotten lost. What extraordinary luck he had!

"Ah," the salesman said, remembering the chef had spoken to him. "Yes, I thought your noodles were exquisite. Much better than how the previous cook made them! You are a credit to your trade. How do you do it?"

The grotesque chef chuckled. "I have a talent," he said.

_Talent my left cheek! _The salesman thought to himself, keeping his smile fixed in place. He had just remembered what the Mask of Scents did. It endowed the wearer with a super sense of smell!

"Sir," the salesman said, "Might I ask where you got that…fine…mask that you are wearing?"

"It's not a mask," said the chef. "This is my face."

"You cannot fool me, sir," the irrepressible salesman replied. "I have made a study of masks of that sort. You are either wearing a mask on your face or you are the ugliest chef in the world."

The chef stopped laughing. "Why do you want to know?" he said in a low gravelly voice.

"This man is a mask salesman of considerable renown," said the restaurant owner with a wide smile on his fat face. "In fact, if I am not mistaken, he is gathering a collection of rather rare, in fact _mythical_, masks right now."

The salesman frowned dangerously. This man was making a mockery of his quest! "They are not mythical," he growled. "I have three of them in my sack already."

"Ah, I see," said the chef, who had been paying very close attention to the argument. "You speak of the masks from the legend of Majora." He smirked a piggish smirk. "It just so happens that you are correct. This is one of those masks. I got it from a master chef long ago," he continued.

"May I have it?" the salesman asked, quite cordially as a matter of fact.

"No," said the chef. "I need it."

The salesman could not keep his eyebrows from twitching as he smiled back at the rude chef. "Pardon me for asking, but why? If you have a talent for cooking, as you claim, why would you need a mask to help you with your sense of smell? Unless you are not the chef you claim to be?"

It was the chef's turn to get angry. "Are you challenging me, sir?" he whispered softly.

The salesman had no intention of challenging the chef at all, but quickly realized that it was an opportune way to achieve his goal. "If I win," he swiftly invented, "then you must give me the mask."

"Fine," agreed the chef. "I accept. The restaurant owner shall be our judge. And as a sign of good faith, I shall remove my mask." And with that the chef slowly undid the clasps holding the mask to his head and revealed his true face.

The salesman was startled to find that the chef was actually quite handsome, with soft green eyes and long blonde hair, tied back to keep it out of the food. Not that he would know anything about a man's looks. "Why do you wear the mask again?" the salesman asked hesitantly.

"It is only an aid," said the chef. "Now there shall be no more questions. Let us begin! If you can make noodles better than mine, you shall have my mask."

Halfway through the time allotted to them, the salesman knew that he was in serious trouble. The chef was quickly sprinkling various ingredients into his noodles and stirring his simmering pot with delicate grace. He was a master. The salesman could smell the chef's dish from where he stood. He had not been boasting; the man had talent!

And the poor salesman? He could barely boil noodles! He was never much of a cook, and realized that he was in way over his head. Unless he thought of something fast, he would lost his one chance of earning the Mask of Scents. He did not want to resort to theft again.

Stealing the competition, however, was an entirely different matter.

With the swiftness of a snake striking a mouse in the dead of night, the salesman carefully and nonchalantly switched the labels of two ingredients. Then, he placed both on the chef's table and grinned. It was only a matter of time now. His opponent's dish would be ruined!

The restaurant owner finally came around the check on the dishes. As he stopped at the chef's table, he made himself a plate of the noodles and proceeded to eat it. The salesman waited eagerly as the judge appeared at a loss for words. He could think of a few to provide. "It's terrible! It's the worst thing he's ever eaten! You lose, fancy restaurant chef!" the salesman thought with glee as the restaurant owner came to his decision.

"This tastes…delicious!" said the restaurant owner with a smile. "It's the best thing I've ever tasted! That salesman will find it hard to top you!"

Dumbfounded, the salesman stared at the widely grinning chef for a full five seconds before he realized his blunder. Of course! The chef did not use _either_ of the ingredients the salesman had switched. Now the salesman grabbed hastily at random things on the shelves and dumped them on top of his noodles. If he was going to lose, he was going to lose with a bang!

The restaurant owner was taking his time with the previous dish, so the salesman had ample time to make his seem presentable. It was a hodgepodge of ingredients, with so many different flavors and tastes that the salesman himself had forgotten what he had put into it. The restaurant owner seemed to stop and stare for a minute, before grabbing a fork and taking a bite of the messy concoction.

The man's eyes widened and he suddenly dropped the bowel and ran around the restaurant. "Hot!" he cried, "It's so hot! I can't taste anything any more! Ohhhhh!" and he continued to cry and run around as the salesman and chef watched.

The salesman's shoulders slumped in defeat. Oh well, he thought. He tried his best. But his noodles weren't that bad, were they?

Suddenly the restaurant owner stopped running. He had an almost ethereal look on his face. "Oh," he said, pausing to feel a new sensation on his tongue. "Oh, this is interesting. My tongue seems to have cooled down…hmmmm…"

The salesman did not know what to think. As the man wandered back over to the kitchen, a smile appeared on his face and it grew wider and wider as he came closer. "This…this is magnificent!" he eventually said, much to everyone's surprise. "The hot flavor overwhelms you at first, but then a rush of other sensations comes and overpowers it! It's like a hurricane of taste! Sir," the man said proudly to the abashed salesman, "I am honored to give the victory to you, as long as you can let me use this dish in my restaurant!"

The salesman was nonplussed. He had no idea what had just happened, but he had won! "Of course," he said slowly. "This is…an ancient recipe that goes back through my family. I call it the Firecracker," he invented, completely pleased with himself. "I would love to give you the rights to this dish, just as long as I receive half the profits."

"Oh, of course," the restaurant owner assured him. The chef just stared with wide eyes at the salesman and then back at his own dish.

"Just use all of these ingredients here, with the hot sauce on top, and you'll be fine," said the salesman as he pointed to every ingredient on the table. As he went over to retrieve his newly won mask, the chef came up to him and extended his hand.

"I have underestimated you, sir," he said with good grace. "You are truly a fine chef. Either that, or you are the luckiest man I have ever met."

"That I am," said the salesman as he left the building. "That I am."

And so it came to be that the salesman, with his talent and vision, attained yet another mask. But of course, his adventure was not over yet!

**_The salesman returned to where our story unfurled_**

_**And met with the ugliest chef in the world.**_

**_With luck and good instincts he bested his frying_**

**_And won the Mask of Scents without even trying!_**

AN: Comments? Questions? Suggestions about which masks you'd like to see next? Please leave a review on the way out! Reviews make me happy and motivate me to keep writing!


	6. Creepy Graveyards in Kakariko

Chapter 5: Creepy Graveyards in Kakariko

Before the salesman began to set out on his journey once more, he called upon a merchant in the streets of Hyrule Castle Town. And before you could even say "get going, already!" he had purchased a map of Hyrule and pocketed it. The salesman had learned from his mistakes, and he was getting tired of walking over the same ground again and again.

"This journey is truly changing me," the salesman thought to himself. "Before I had set out to find the masks, I would never have wasted precious money on something like a map." With that thought, he stepped back onto the dusty dirt road leading out of the town, pondering on how he would surprise himself next.

It was a long and hard journey. The stifling 75 degree weather rained on the salesman's head as he trod the earth for an entire hour to his desired destination. And even with the tyranny of Mother Nature and father time following him wherever he went, the salesman's greatest challenge was with himself, for it was on this stage of his journey that he came to grips with his skills and learned a very important thing:

The salesman did not know how to read maps.

"Let me see," he puzzled as he stared at the map, his nose touching the paper. "If that is Hyrule Castle Town, and that is Kakariko Village…" The salesman flung down the map in a rage. "I have no idea what I'm doing!" he cried in despair towards the suspiciously sunny skies. He glared at the fluffy white clouds as if daring them to sprinkle rain upon him. The clouds did not oblige, which simply made the salesman more frustrated.

But after he calmed down, he gave a great sigh and picked up the map once more. The salesman was nothing if not gallantly determined. He would find those masks if he had to go to the ends of the earth to do it! He walked along with his nose once more buried in the map, trying to figure out what the strange symbols and writing upon it meant.

He finally managed to make out squiggly writing showing him that brown lines meant dirt paths, and realized that he was on a path directly towards Kakariko Village. As he walked along, he noticed some more writing near where he imagined he must be standing.

"Beware…of…hole?" the salesman read aloud.

The salesman felt an unfamiliar lurching sensation in his stomach, and with a frightened yelp he plunged feet-first into a large pit that had been dug into the road. Of course, this made the salesman extremely confused. Who in Hyrule, he thought, would have the audacity to dig a hole in the middle of the road? And write its location on a map no less? It simply made no sense, unless the one who sold him the map enjoyed playing pranks on people.

The salesman suddenly remembered recognizing the man who sold him the map as an old poker buddy he knew from years ago. This would have been exactly the sort of thing he would do. Cursing, the salesman struggled to pull himself out of the pit, and ten minutes later he was back on the road.

The map, however, still lay in the hole. Something so untrustworthy, he thought wisely, should not be passed on. From that moment on, when the salesman needed directions, he would simply ask for them.

The sun was setting as the salesman finally approached Kakariko Village, and this time he was sure that this was the place! It was nothing like Hyrule Castle Town. You would be hard pressed to ever find a chicken wandering around the streets of Hyrule Castle Town, for one thing. And in Kakariko Village, there was a windmill. A windmill! The salesman had never seen anything so strange in all his years, although he acknowledged that he had not seen much.

As the salesman took in the strange surroundings, he thought back to what the Keaton had told him. "The Keaton had said that if I talked to the townspeople, then I would find more of the legendary masks," he thought aloud. And so he decided to do just that. But how, he thought to himself, would he convey the seriousness of his mission to such simple, country-bred hicks? It was quite a puzzle.

Perhaps the best thing to do would be to just walk boldly up to some person. The salesman quickly spotted a likely bumpkin near a chicken coop, a slightly portly fellow with a thick and bushy moustache. Choosing his words carefully, the salesman went up to the man and said, "Excuse me. I am a collector of sorts, and I specialize in masks. Would you happen to know where I could find one?"

"A what?" said the man.

"A mask," said the ever patient salesman. "One of those things you put on your face."

"I know what a mask is," said the man, who the salesman thought was secretly lying. "It's just a strange thing to be looking for around here. Nobody buys masks anymore."

The salesman thought he felt a sob rise up in his throat at the memory of his lost business, but he quickly dismissed the matter. "The masks I'm looking for are not the type you can buy in any store," he continued. "They are quite rare. You see…"

"Now that I think of it," the man so rudely interrupted, "I do remember the grave keeper talking about something like that. I never paid attention to him, though. He may be good at the job, but he's no Dampé. Now THERE was a man that could dig a grave. And he was an honest man, too."

The salesman could sense that the man was beginning to ramble, so he quickly reminded him, "but what was he saying about masks?"

"Oh. He said he had found one while he was burying a new body," said the man. "He should be making his rounds soon, since the sun is almost setting. But I should warn you," he said, and a dark and forbidding look came into his eyes. "I would not dare to go around that place at night."

Now, the salesman had always been very superstitious, and when he heard the man say those words the skin on the back of his neck began to prickle. He knew what kinds of creatures roamed around graveyards around sundown: zombies, vampires, ghosts…all kinds of creepy dead things. And so he asked the question that voiced his fears. "Why? Is it haunted?" he said, attempting to sound like he was joking.

The man stared at him for a moment before replying, "No, but the grave keeper does not like trespassers. He's afraid of people tampering with his work."

"Oh," said the sheepish salesman. "I will make sure to be careful." And then he made his way, knees knocking, towards the mysterious graveyard.

As soon as the salesman entered the graveyard, he imagined that he felt a spooky aura about it. One could not go to a place like that without feeling the eyes of the dead staring up at him through the ground. He could almost hear them conspiring, waiting for the moon to rise so that they could rise themselves and feed upon his flesh.

"Now, now," he told himself fiercely, "You are just being ridiculous. You know just as well as any person that ghosts and zombies do not exist. There are no such things as ghosts…" and he began to make a chant out of it. As he made his way through the graveyard, he muttered constantly under his breath, like a prayer, "There are no such things as ghosts, there are no such things as ghosts, there are no…"

An icy cold hand touch his shoulder in mid chant, and the salesman nearly leaped out of his skin with fright. Suppressing a shriek of terror, he stood stock still, apart from his shaking legs. "Excuse me," said a voice behind him, "but what are you doing here?"

The salesman slowly turned around, dreading what he might find. Imagine his surprise and relief when he looked into the eyes of a man standing before him. Granted, the eyes of the man were a bit sunken, and he had a bit of a slouch in his posture that made him seem hunchbacked, but otherwise he seemed perfectly normal.

At least that's what the salesman told himself. "Are you the grave keeper?" he asked, unable to keep the quaver out of his voice. He was not afraid, he insisted to himself. It was just that it was a creepy situation!

The man smiled crookedly back at him, showing yellowed and ragged teeth (which were perfectly normal teeth for a man to have! the salesman reassured himself). "That I am," he said with a slight nod. "What business have you here?"

And so the salesman launched into his epic tale, although he babbled a bit more than necessary out of nervousness. After he had finished, the grave keeper nodded slowly and said, "So you wish to see my mask. I do believe that I have what you are looking for. I found it on the face of one of the dead here in this graveyard."

Upon hearing this, the salesman gulped down his urge to scream and run far, far away. "Really?" he said. "H-how interesting!"

"I might be willing to part with it…however," he said, and he gazed deep into the salesman's eyes, as if meaning to turn him to stone, "You must do something for me in return."

The salesman gulped. What would he have to do? Sign his name in blood? Perform a strange ritual? What could this man be plotting?

The man suddenly straightened up. "You must spend dinner with me and my family. We are awfully starved for company. Nobody seems to want to eat with a man who buries the dead, but you seem like a nice enough fellow."

"Oh," said the salesman. "Of course. That would be lovely." But on the inside, he was thinking to himself, "How anti-climactic."

It was only a moment later that the salesman found himself inside the grave keeper's hut. The salesman's eyes roamed the house suspiciously to find any sign of weirdness around. However, to his surprise, there was none. The place was perfectly normal, and well kept: there were even little white doilies on the table in the middle of the room.

"I must insist that any drinks you may have to be placed on the doilies," said the grave keeper, waving a lanky hand towards the small, round objects. "My wife does not like to clean table stains, and I try to make life easy for her."

"Your…wife?" the salesman said hesitantly, his mind beginning to race once again. What kind of wife would a grave keeper have?

What if, he thought suddenly, she was a corpse reanimated? The very thought made his blood curdle and an involuntary gasp made its way out of his mouth. The salesman once again tried to search for an exit, but just then a sweet, feminine voice rang through the air.

"Welcome back, dear!" the voice said, and the salesman's jaw dropped. A beautiful, young woman stood not far away from the two men. She was of an average height with medium long, dark hair and gentle brown eyes. The woman held her arms daintily in front of the apron on her chest, and the salesman's beady eyes were instantly drawn to her ample bosom. "Your shift's done early tonight, isn't it?" she said, and the salesman listened to her soft voice, which was similar to the coo of a dove.

_Not only is she not dead_, the salesman realized incredulously, _but she's absolutely gorgeous!_ _How could a grave keeper get a woman like that?_

"I came across this young salesman while I was making my rounds," the grave keeper replied as he embraced his wife. "He said he was interested in the mask that I found, so I invited him to stay for dinner. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," the woman said with a gracious smile. "The more the merrier. It's so nice to have a guest," she said, turning her gaze to the salesman. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Uh…yes! Likewise!" the salesman blurted out, still stunned by the unlikelihood of these circumstances.

"I'll get changed. Please make our guest feel at home," said the grave keeper, and he left his wife and the salesman alone.

"So, you are interested in my husband's mask? I must say, it's strange that you even heard about it. George only told a few people," the woman said in an engaging way.

"Oh, well…I'm a collector…I was hoping that I could persuade your husband to sell it to me…" the salesman stammered, secretly thinking what an ordinary name "George" was.

"Oh, well I don't think you'll have any trouble doing that," the woman said confidently, still shining her gentle smile. "He isn't too fond of it. To tell you the truth, neither am I," she admitted, pulling a long face. "It doesn't go too well with the rest of the house."

"Oh, yes…you have a lovely home," the salesman said politely, and he meant it. He never would have expected the best kept house he had ever been in to be so close to a graveyard. "Um…Pardon me for asking," the salesman said hesitantly, "but I must know…what exactly was it that attracted you to your husband?"

As the salesman predicted, the woman seemed taken aback. But then again, who wouldn't be? It was a rather personal question. However, it wasn't long before the woman began smiling again. "It must seem rather odd for a woman to be married to a grave keeper," she said, "but my husband is truly a kind and generous man. Did you know," she said proudly to the salesman, "that he holds a private funeral service for every person he buries? It's really a good thing that this village is so small, so he doesn't have to do it so much; he gets so broken up about it."

"Ah…I see," said the salesman softly. _You truly can't judge a person by their vocation in life_, he thought to himself.

"And," the woman added with a grin, "he's a really good kisser, too!"

The salesman could only stare at her. _That was a little too much information_.

Just then, the grave keeper came back into the room. He had changed out of the tattered clothes the salesman had found him in into a nice suit. And, the salesman noticed, his hump was gone.

Noticing the salesman's suspicious glance, the grave keeper laughed a hearty laugh. "I see you've noticed my change in appearance. I only wear the hump when I'm out on duty. It makes it easier for me to do my job if people don't approach me." The grave keeper smiled with brilliant white teeth. The salesman figured that his old yellow ones must have been part of the disguise.

"Yes dear, but it makes it so much harder for us to meet people," his wife scolded.

"Well," the grave keeper laughed again, "That's true. But now we have a guest. You'll never want to eat anything else once you've tasted my wife's cooking," he assured the salesman.

His wife blushed with pleasure and giggled, "Now really dear, don't get his hopes up!"

Just then, a smaller figure bounded into the room and wrapped its small arms around the grave keeper's legs with a shout of, "Daddy's home for dinner tonight!"

This was getting to be too much for the salesman. The grave keeper had a child, too? How in the world could a grave keeper be so much more successful in building a family than a mask salesman?

Suddenly, the salesman felt despair in his heart. Could it be that he himself really wasn't that much of a catch? The very thought filled him with sorrow. It would be one thing if he had women to choose from, but (and the salesman was very ashamed to admit this) he had never once had ANY woman interested in him!

The women of Hyrule Castle Town must have horrible taste, the salesman thought bitterly.

"I brought a guest with me tonight, son," George the grave keeper said to the tiny child clinging to him. "He's here to take that mask off our hands."

"Awwww," the boy pouted. "Why? I like that mask! It's so spooky and mysterious!"

_The whole graveyard is spooky and mysterious!_ the salesman thought to himself.

"Hmmm…well, how about this?" the grave keeper said to his son. "Next time I go out on the job, I'll take you with me and we'll find something even spookier!"

"Really? Yay!" said the young boy. "I have the coolest dad ever!"

As the child embraced his father, the salesman could only stare. He wished he could have a little boy like that.

"Before we begin eating," the grave keeper said, startling the salesman out of his reverie, "I would like to make a toast to our guest! Thank you for joining us for dinner tonight!"

And then the salesman looked at the three smiling faces standing opposite him and suddenly felt ashamed. How could he have ever doubted that this was any less than a normal family? Tears welled up in his eyes as he replied, "Oh, no sir. The pleasure is all mine."

The remainder of the night passed without incident. The grave keeper told many stories about interesting digs he had been on, and the grave keeper's wife told the salesman tales of life in Kakariko village while her husband played with their son. The meal was perfectly normal, and for that reason it was exquisite. The salesman had never eaten tastier meatloaf. All in all, he thoroughly enjoyed himself. It was the best night he had since he had started on his journey, even since his business started to decline.

But he never forgot, of course, that he was there for business.

After the dinner, the grave keeper rose and beckoned the salesman into a small room just off of the kitchen. This room was dark and dusty, possible the most out of place room in the whole house. Inside it were many bones and artifacts, either in tiny display cases or hung on the walls.

"Occasionally," the grave keeper said, "I find things in the graves that do not belong. When this happens, I take these things home to show my family. We sell what we can, and keep the rest."

"Oh," said the salesman. "I see." _That WAS a bit unusual_.

"I believe this is what you were looking for," said the grave keeper, and with that lifted a dusty round object from one of the display cases. "Nobody wanted to buy it. They believed it was cursed. But I suppose that turned out to be your good fortune," he said with a gentle smile.

The salesman carefully accepted the mask, for that is what it was, from the grave keeper and examined it. It was a carefully carved wooden mask, covered almost completely with a dirty cloth material. The only things showing underneath the cloth were two holes for eyes. It was the Gibdo's mask; how fitting, the salesman thought, that it should be found in a graveyard!

"Thank you," said the salesman. "I truly appreciate your hospitality and kindness. I would like to visit again the next time I am in town."

"You are always welcome in my house," replied the gentle grave keeper. With that, the salesman left the grave keeper's home with a new mask and a slightly better outlook on human nature.

However, he did not notice that as the hour changed, the house behind him ever so slowly became tarnished and old, until it vanished completely from the mortal world.

**_A graveyard was where the salesman next treaded_**

**_Walking the same ground that he feared the dead did,_**

**_But his bravery helped him achieve his prize:_**

**_The Gibdo's mask! It was a sight for sore eyes._**


End file.
